


Paroxysm

by Vesania94



Series: Protect Your Own: The Untold Tales of Circinae Hawke [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blind Rage, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Post-All That Remains, Post-Break Up, Self-Harm, act two, berserker hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 11:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8011840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vesania94/pseuds/Vesania94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following Leandra's death, Circinae Hawke seals herself in her room, flying into a self destructive rage. Bodahn finds Fenris, too afraid of his mistress to check on her himself. It was a wise choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rage

The incessant pounding on his door woke Fenris from his nap with a grumble. He approached it and the insistent, frantic voice of the dwarven man Hawke employed at her estate filtered through.

“Messere! Messere Fenris! Please come quickly!”

“What is it?” he grunted, pulling the door open.

Bodahn almost fell on his face as the door swung backwards, scrambling to his feet, hands clasped and shaking in front of him. “Mistress Hawke, serah! Please! She hasn’t come out of her room for three days! And the sounds ser… the sounds coming out of that room chill your very blood.”

Fenris’ eyebrows furrowed. “You haven’t seen her in three days?” He thought for a moment. Three days would mean that she hadn’t come out of her room since the burning.

“No sir. She won’t take any food either. Please come! I’m terribly worried for her!”

“Give me a moment.”

He picked up his breastplate, debating whether to put it on or not, before looping it loosely over his shoulders and running out the door behind Bodahn, quickly overtaking the dwarf and rushing through the front door of the Hawke estate, coming to a skidding halt on the tiles.

Orana was huddled against a far wall, shaking with fear, and all around echoed the sounds of cracking wood and animalistic screams.

“Hawke?”

More crashing sounds answered him. Slowly, he made his way up the stairs towards her bedroom, securing his plate as he approached the door, the crashing and grunting growing louder.

“Circinae?”

A shriek ripped through the air followed by the sound of someone falling. He reached for the door handle twisting it slowly. Ragged breathing filled the air as the door swung inwards, slowly revealing the destruction within. In the middle of it all sat Circinae Hawke, bloodied, panting, gripping a piece of wood like a lifeline, a dagger sticking out of her side where she had ostensibly stabbed herself, hand still gripping the handle.

“What in the-“

She turned, eyes bloodshot, one half red from a burst vessel, swinging the piece of wood at his head.

 _____

 

Intruder.

That was the word that made sense to her head. Intruder. Attacker. Enemy. Someone new, _something_ new had entered her battlefield. Reinforcements? It didn’t matter anymore. It could be killed.

“What in the-?”

Panic. Concern. It was scared. She turned and swung her weapon out at its head, staggering as she lost her balance, a hand reaching out and twisting her sword from her grip.

“Hawke! It’s me!”

She tackled it, shoving her shoulder hard against its chest. It was armored. She felt her skin break, bone crunch against metal, new blood spilling down her arm. It grabbed her, twisting her around and pinning her hands behind her back, shouting in her ear. She struggled, planting a foot behind its leg and flipping it over her head, rolling to the side and escaping its grip. Tumbling, she pushed off the floor, ignoring the protesting of her arm.

“Hawke, calm down. I’m not here to hurt you.”

She swung, fist connecting with flesh and she grinned as the attacker put their arms up to defend themselves, striking out with their own reaction. Their fist hit her head and she reeled, stars bursting before her eyes. She spun slightly, staggering back towards the bedpost, leaning heavily on it.

“Fasta vass, Circinae!” the voice cursed, panic seeping into its tone.

She felt a hand at her back and turned, lashing out wildly with her fists, vision still blurry from the blow she had taken to the head. She caught the figure on the chin, knocking them backwards. Her shoulder ached as she willed it to move, grabbing at the dagger handle still embedded in her side. Hands caught her shoulders, and she swung the blade at her attacker, metal scraping on metal and finally biting into flesh.

She pushed. Hard.

There was a grunt, and the person stumbled backwards, pressing a hand into the wound. The red in her vision faded slightly, and color started to seep back into the world, in greys and browns. Her breath was still ragged as she threw the dagger at the ground, screaming like an animal, knees giving out as she collapsed on the floor. The world swam, and slowly greens and blues started to burst before her eyes, the bloodlust and rage ebbing from her system as her vision returned to normal. Through the black spots, she saw blood on the floor, still wet and fresh.

Exhale. Hissing, painful, tired.

Inhale. Pain. Lots of pain. Sharp, stabbing, wound pain. Wait, had she actually stabbed herself? She vaguely remembered that.

Exhale. Head still ringing, bruise forming on her temple. Someone had punched her. That someone was still in the room.

Inhale. She had stabbed them.

Exhale. Fenris. She had stabbed Fenris.

_Shit._


	2. Calm

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Fen-“ she groaned, pressing her hand into her side, trying to stem the flow of blood. “Fenris…”

Blood was streaming out from the wound she had put in him, forming a puddle on his stomach; creeping up the shirt he wore as she crawled over to him, arm complaining the entire way.

“Hawke… Are you alright?” he asked, reaching up with a bloodied finger and tucking some of the loose hair around her ear.

“Shut up, we need to get you to Anders,” she muttered, picking up a piece of tattered fabric and pressing it over the wound. “Maker, I’m so sorry Fenris.”

“Hawke.”

“I shouldn’t of… I couldn’t…”

“Hawke you’re bleeding.”

“Yours is worse.”

“It really isn’t.”

Circinae shook her head in aggravation, her head still pounding. She reached up to the end table next to them, where a bottle of clear alcohol sat, mercifully unbroken. She poured some liberally on another scrap of cloth, pressing it against the wound quickly as she peeled back the other one. He hissed quietly as it hit the open skin.

“Kaffas! What is that?”

“Expensive, supposedly. Come on.” She tucked his arm over her shoulder, hauling him upright before collapsing herself, hands skidding over the carpet. Looking down, she realized just how much she had been bleeding, her left leg soaked in her blood that was still trickling from the puncture wound in her side. Her head spun a little more as she tried to push off the ground to get up, only succeeding in pushing herself against the wall, breathing hard. Looking had been a bad idea. Fenris collapsed beside her, still bleeding.

“This is not how I thought today would end,” he chuckled dryly.

“I don’t even know what today is,” Circinae responded, reaching up and picking up the bottle of alcohol, taking a healthy swig of it. It burned her throat going down, and she wasn’t completely sure if that was from the power of the drink, or her unknown duration of rage. It barely eased the parched feeling in her mouth. It sent her head spinning immediately and she wasn’t sure whether that was a blessing or a mistake at this point. Fenris’ hand opened next to hers, and she passed him the bottle, taking a bleary-eyed look around the room.

The place was trashed, multiple holes in the walls, tables splintered, curtains torn from the windows, and blood everywhere. Slowly her eyes turned to Fenris, who had put the bottle back down, having taken his own generous swig. He was wearing white, for the first time since she had met him. Now hopelessly stained with red, he had come over unarmed and mostly unarmored. An occurrence that was unheard of.

“No gauntlets?” Circinae slurred, the alcohol and blood loss muting the pain as the midday sun started to creep through the window. Had it really been morning when all this had happened? The last thing she remembered clearly was the afternoon of the burning.

“I did not… have time.”

“That worried about me?”

He hummed slightly as their heads sank together, Circinae’s eyes drifting closed. They caught a flash of red on his left wrist, and she pulled it towards her with slow, labored movements.

“You know what this means, right?” she slurred heavily, reaching for the bottle again and taking another impressively sized sip. She put it down and laced her fingers through his, chin falling onto his shoulder. “’s an old family tradition. You- you give the person you think is special something red, because it means you love them.” He stiffened against her, almost pulling away, and she giggled drunkenly, the alcohol going straight to her head. “Thank you for coming to find me, Fen… I’m glad it was you… you know, even if I stabbed you. I’m sorry about that, I didn’t mean it.”

“I know.”

“Love you.”

“I know that as well,” he whispered, tipping her head up. “Circinae, you need to stay awake.”

“'m tryin...”

“Mistress Hawke!” Bodahn’s voice filtered through the fog in her mind. The dwarf had finally worked up the courage to enter the room, picking his way through the wreckage.

“Hey Bodahn… can… can you get Anders for us?” Circinae giggled, wincing as her side panged. “Or… anyone I guess?” This earned her a chuckle from Fenris, who was losing consciousness as quickly as she was.

The world faded to a warm and happy black as the dwarf dashed from the room as though an archdemon were chasing him.

 

She awoke hours later on a soft mattress that had been placed in front of the fireplace in the main hall. The stabbing pain had stopped, now replaced with a dull ache. Turning her head, she saw Fenris sitting in one of the plush armchairs, sulking as Anders rushed between him and a table covered in potions and ointments. She turned with a slight groan, propping herself up on her elbow, the arm she had slammed against his chest now bandaged in a comfortable sling.

“He didn’t poison you, did he?”

Both of the men looked up, Fenris’ face softening, while Anders’ hardened into a scowl.

“Why I even keep you two alive is beyond me,” Anders muttered, moving back towards his swath of medicinals.

“I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m the one who keeps paying those bribes to keep the Templars out of your clinic?” Circinae laughed, wincing as her side twanged slightly. So he had healed her, but not all the way. It looked as though he had done the same to Fenris, who she could see was now shirtless, a wide bandage wrapped around his middle.

“Varric pays those bribes,” Anders retorted, walking over and handing her a small glass of a disturbingly purple liquid. “Drink this, please.”

“Varric wins all his coin off of me on Friday nights,” Circinae smirked. “Cheers.” She drained the glass in one swallow.

“Does he now? Tell me, how much has he gotten off of you to date?”

Circinae tried to focus on the number, counting in her head. It became harder and harder to focus as she slumped backwards onto the mattress once again, suddenly feeling incredibly tired.

“Dunno… Hey Anders, what was that stuff?”

“Focus on the number, Hawke. Just focus on the number.”

Her eyes slid shut, heavy with exhaustion. She could almost feel the number on the tip of her tongue, just slipping away from her as she slid softly into a light doze and then blissful unconsciousness. The glass fell from her hand, rolling onto the floor with a dull thud.

Anders picked up the glass and wiped his hand on his robe, tucking her hand back under the sheet that covered her.

“She should be asleep for another half a day. As long as we keep supplying her with liquids, she’ll make a full recovery. You doing alright, elf?” Anders asked, walking back to the table.

“I will manage.”

“I’ve got to ask –was your breakup really that bad that she stabbed you?” Anders joked, packing up the salves and potions. Fenris glared at him. “Alright, alright. Not asking _that_ question ever again. Though she’d have been luckier if Bodahn had fetched me instead.”

Fenris looked at her sleeping form, hair strewn over the mattress, face kadis-less, chest moving slowly with the gentle rhythm of her breathing. It was unlikely that she would remember the conversation they had before Bodahn had found them bleeding out together. But he would.

“Yes,” he answered with a slight sigh. “She would have been luckier.”


End file.
